


The Abyss of Crimson

by ChangingbacktoBellamort500



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Dark Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangingbacktoBellamort500/pseuds/ChangingbacktoBellamort500
Summary: Vampire AUCountess Madelyn Stillwell, rich, beautiful and dammed for all eternity.John Vogelbaum the adopted son of a preacher dammed for all eternity because of her.





	1. Chapter 1

The mist creeps in with the grace of a ballerina, the silence of a mute. John Vogelbaum knows the closer he gets to the castle, the thicker the fog will become. It's like a cloak of white hiding the place away from mortal eyes because they aren't worthy or they can't handle what's there.

He's heard the rumours and myths about the place, the evil that waits inside. Countess Madelyn Stillwell with her wealth and beauty, but she's cursed; dammed for all eternity.

She bewitches men then leaves their bodies an empty husk, buried without a gravestone to name them, shamed in death for giving into temptation. Forgiving into the devil, that's what she, John is sure of it.

A good Christian should run away from the castle, not towards it.

But she calls to him "John," a sultry voice whispers in the night, his stomach coils in want. "Come to me, John,". She has for weeks and weeks, night after night he lay there in a pool of his sweat fighting every urge to go to her until tonight. He's not sure what's changed or if he cares enough to figure it out.

John knows it's wrong. What would his adopted father say? What would everyone say if they knew the adopted son of a clergyman was doing the thing he had warned and preached at them not to do.

But he's pulled by an invisible leash around his soul. It's the only way he can rationalize it in his fevered state.

* * *

The door opens with a groaning creak, he steps inside, knowing there is no turning back anymore. He felt it in the depths of his when he stepped through the doorway.

His heart pounds in his chest whether it's fear or excitement he doesn't know. "John," the darkness whispers, welcoming him home like a lover. "Come find me, John,".

He's lost, wandering in the darkness through corridor after corridor like he's in a maze; all he wants is to find her, but the castle is testing him. It's like it's judging whether he's worthy or not.

His clothes are damp with sweat; pupils dilated and his brain fuzzy. Around and around he goes with the voice inside his head "Find me, John,".

A hazy image of a woman dressed in red lounging on a recamier sofa, a gold goblet in her hand flits through his mind. John knows it's Madelyn; taunting him.

* * *

He's not sure where he is, but he's lying down, and there is dim candlelight. A cool hand against his fevered cheek, perfume lingers on the wrist. "Poor baby," a soothing voice whispers in his ear. "I'm going to take care of you,". All he can do is nod his head.

Lips pressed into his neck, soft so soft then teeth and briefly the body of Henry Simons, puncture marks in his neck drained of every drop of blood runs through his head, but gets drowned out by bliss.

There is no other way to describe what's happening or how he feels other than pure ecstasy. Every cell in his body feels alive, his skin sensitive and raw, mind as if it were swimming in opium.

He can't remember why he fought coming here so long, why he denied himself feeling this.


	2. Chapter 2

His throat is dry like he has swallowed barbed wire then guzzled down a pot of salt. Head hurts and body aches, John is sure he died and that when he opens his eyes, he'll be in hell.

"What is hell like?" John asked as a young boy, dirty hands resting on the table.

"Dirty and smelly, fires caused by your sins. The flames of your sins burn you, the more you sin the hotter they are for all eternity," Jonah explained, looking very serious. "And, what must you do to avoid this, John?".

"Avoid dying for as long as possible,"

It hasn't been the right answer or at least not an answer Jonah had wanted to hear even now years later he can feel the cane across his fingers for his insolence.

He's cold if he were dead and he'd hell then wouldn't there be warmth from the flames or had Jonah got that wrong.

* * *

"Here drink this," Madelyn orders gently, placing a glass to his lips. "It'll make you feel better,".

He drinks greedily, warm and sweet soothing his throat. Madelyn smiles, one hand on his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb. John studies her, blonde curls messy, a thin fabric nightie that barely covers her body.

She takes the glass away from his lips, and he pouts, she looks amused. Her fingers trail down his neck pressing into two puncture marks, a hiss of pain escapes his lips.

"Don't worry it won't hurt for long," Madelyn promises, bringing her close to his neck. "Once the transformation finishes you'll never feel pain again,". She kisses the marks, softly like Madelyn thinks it will soothe it.

"The others that came here you killed," John says out loud without meaning too, and the words hang in the air like birds that haven't decided whether they are going to land or soar higher.

"If you're asking if I'm going to kill you, the answer is no. I'm going to turn you into a God," Madelyn whispers huskily into his ear. "But yes, I killed them, John. What I did was no different from killing a lamb or a pig for food. When the hunger comes, you'll understand that, and all that nonsense about good and evil Vogelbaum filled your head with, will fade away,".

* * *

He's alone. When he fell asleep Madelyn had been there stroking his hair, but now the other is of the bed is empty and he feels hollow inside. John gets out of bed, knocking his foot on a blood-stained statue. It doesn't hurt, and if this was anyone else room but Madelyn's he'd think it was a strange thing to have in a bedroom.

There is music, a piano being played somewhere in the castle and he follows it like a rat following the piper.

Madelyn is sitting at a piano playing the most beautiful yet haunting tune he's ever heard. A small girl seated on the floor, and he had never heard of a child at the castle. John can hear the girl's heart thumping away in her chest with joy.

"Again," a blonde-haired girl squeals with delight.

"Later. Our guest is awake and needs my attention," Madelyn replies with a warm smile at the child. "Annie, go to the kitchen and get yourself some cake,".

When he looks at her face in the light, he sees two milky white eyes, yet the blind girl walks around as if she can see.

"The girl, how did she come to be in your care?" John asks he can't imagine someone willingly handing over a child to her.

"My ward was left dumped in the forests to die, it still amazes me she didn't, it was such a harsh winter," Madelyn replies, gesturing her hand for him to sit in a red armchair. "Her parents were Mary and Henry January,".

"But if she were dumped how do you know who her parents were?"

Madelyn seems amused at his interruption and his question.

"Money can buy many things John', especially information. Annie's blindness made her easier to track down. Her father believed that her blindness was the result of Mary conversing with the devil during her pregnancy. Accused her of being a witch, she was hung, and Annie was dumped in the forest for the devil to claim," Madelyn explains, an edge of bitterness in her voice.

John didn't dare voice to her that many saw her as the devil, and she had found the child. In the back of his mind, he remembers Jonah leaving to judge a trial of a woman named Mary, and how her husband two months later disappeared.

"Henry January, what happened to him?"

"I invited him to my home as a guest. Drained him dry then dumped his body in the forest like he dumped his daughter, " Madelyn answers, making her way over to him. Resting on the arm of the chair her legs dangling laid over his lap. "Now, any more questions,".

John had a million. Why did you bring me here? Why do I only feel alive when you are near? Do you enjoy killing? But the only one that comes out of his mouth is "How did you become what you are?".

"I was the result of men always being quick to blame the devil and women for their misdeeds or God to justify them,"

"That's not an explanation," John mumbles, as she places her hand on his cheek.

"I know,"


	3. Chapter 3

Time passes differently in the castle an hour can seem like a week, a week like an hour. John has no idea how long he's been there as he stares at Madelyn naked back while she faces the fire. Just enough distance between them to make him ache for her, close enough that he can see she's silently seething.

He doesn't know what she's angry about, one moment they were in bed with him trailing his fingertips down the silvery, faded scars on her back the next, she's sat in front of the fire. The bed feels empty without her.

"Listen and tell me what you hear," Madelyn requests, sweetly yet the stance of her body doesn't change. John would swear they could spend a thousand years together and he'd never figure her out.

"The wind, the sound of the flames whooshing as they burn the wood, the wood splitting and crumbling under the heat," John answers, lying back and closing his eyes trying to focus on every sound. "Annie's heart beating so strong. Her footsteps across her bedroom floor, the birds outside her room and the leaves rustling in the trees,".

"That's enough, now put your hand over your chest right where your heart is and tell me what you feel," Madelyn insists, and he does it without a second's hesitation.

"Nothing," he whispers, not a thump or even a twitch of a beat.

"Exactly. One day you'll hate me for that,"

* * *

Alfred Henry's looks in a daze, sweat dripping down his forehead. No idea where he is or why he's there. John can heart hear his heartbeat thumping away in fear and want; the veins in Alfred's neck, pushing against his skin.

"Press your mouth to his neck John, let instinct take over," Madelyn huskily whispers in his ear. "Don't think about it, about anything,".

John can feel the flesh piercing on his teeth, the flood of salty red on his tongue. Warm, pungent, crimson sliding down his throat, and he can't stop. Doesn't want too, nothing has ever tasted this good before.

"Take every drop," Madelyn encourages, hair hand strokes his hair. "Good boy,".

Alfred's breathing is gaspy, the instinct for his survival kicking out and trying to break the spell he's under, but his will is weak. John has always known this about Alfred Henry's that he was weak, not a bad man or even a weak one just no will to fight or resist, no passion for life. A hunger for wine and cheeses, beautiful women, but never life.

* * *

"Why do you send the bodies back?" John asks, his head resting on Madelyn's lap. Bloodstains on his chin and his stomach full.

Alfred's body lies in the corner with a dirty sheet over his body. Tomorrow Madelyn will get rid of the body, dump him somewhere that people were bound to find him.

"So their families know what happened to them, I spare them the pain of them not knowing what happened to their loved one, and give them grief mixed with resentment at their loved one's weakness," she explains, hand caressing his face. Her skin so soft against his.

Madelyn needs them to know that the pain they are suffering is by her hand, but John doesn't understand why she needs it and knows to press her over it would just make her withdraw from him.

"Does Annie know what you are? What I am now?" John asks. Madelyn doesn't mind questions about the child. Her fondness for Annie is one of the few things he's sure about with her.

"Of course she does. It doesn't bother her and she knows I'd never harm her or let anyone hurt her," she answers, bringing her head and pressing her lips to his chin, the tip of her tongue touching Alfred's dry blood.

He could stay like this with her for a thousand years and not get bored. Somewhere, deep down inside him, something screams at him that it is wrong to desire that. That you burn and drown demons not curl in their laps, let them take your soul and make you like them. But when her lips touch his that voice is silenced.


	4. Chapter 4

The night wraps itself around the castle like a black cloak, the smell of dead leaves and dirt drifts through the open window that rattles from the harsh wind blowing outside.

John lies sprawled out on the floor, counting the cracks on the ceiling. Madelyn had left what felt like hours ago (in reality fifteen minutes had passed) kissing him hard on the lips before she left without an explanation of where she was going. "I'll be back soon," that's all she had told him.

He should have followed her, but the thought of leaving the safety of the castle makes him uneasy. John enjoys being in the little bubble they have here if he steps out of it then the bubble could burst. It's a risk he isn't willing to take yet.

What if he ran into someone he knew? How could he explain everything that had happened to him when he didn't fully understand it himself.

"John," Madelyn's voice whispers in his head. "Hear me, John, and open your mind to me,".

How can he do anything else but obey?

He can hear and see everything she can. John recognises the room; it's Jonah's study.

"My son, do you know where he is?" Jonah asks, sitting in his chair. A crucifix in the palm of his hand. Sweat glistens on his forehead.

"I have no idea; he's a young man he's probably run off with a pretty girl somewhere," Madelyn lies, trailing her fingers across the carved animals in the wall. "Where he is or isn't is no concern of mine. I have a list of things I want you to send to the castle,".

"I take it you'll be paying me the normal sum of money for these items,"

Madelyn lets out a snort. "Of course, you know that's what I love about you how easily you are brought. By day you preach, I'm the devil, and by night you practically drooling at my feet for my money,".

Jonah's face twitches in annoyance; John recognises that look he'd seen it so many times throughout his life.

"Oh, and if you could encourage more people to eat the fruit I so graciously get imported here I'll add a bonus to the usual sum. The fruit makes their blood taste richer,"

* * *

He growls into the crook of her neck, half-human and half-animal snarl that comes from some primal instinct deep down inside. John grips her wrists so tight that if this were any other woman, the bones would crush under his strength.

"Tell me what the hell all of that was about with my father," John demands with a hiss.

"No," Madelyn whispers in his ear, a smirk on her lips when she feels his teeth at the base of her throat. "I'm gone for an hour, and suddenly you're all cocky and demanding, we really can't have that,".

Before he knows what is going on he's pinned to the ceiling. They are face to face, held by the magic of the devil and Madelyn's will which John was sure were the same thing.

  
"It's my castle John, my game and my rules," Madelyn drawled with an air of calm, but her eyes were the colour of coal. He'd never seen them like that before, but instead of feeling repulsion or fear he's never wanted her more. "I'll tell you everything, but when I'm ready and when I'm sure you can handle it,".

"That's not fair," he huffs,

"The world my love rarely is," Madelyn coos mockingly.


	5. Chapter 5

The fire roars, Annie sits in front of it with a plate of sandwiches on her lap. Hair a mess and dirt on her nose.

"Can I please stay up longer," the young girl begs with a pout, the fire dancing in her milky white eyes.

"Not tonight," Madelyn replies, her voice laced with affection. She's sitting on John's lap, head resting against his chest. "We have a guest joining us, and I'd prefer you safely tucked up in bed,".

"I won't get in the way," Annie promises, nibbling on a sandwich. "I'll stay in the kitchen; you never let guests in there,".

"You're going to bed. Tomorrow you can stay up for as long as you want. I'll even do your hair the way you like, and you can wear your favourite dress," Madelyn promises with a smile. "Behave, and there will be cake."

John watches the young girl shoulders slump in defeat but perks up a little at the word "Cake." He knows Madelyn feels guilty when she can't give in to what Annie wants almost if the child has a second of unhappiness it tears apart her non-beating heart.

* * *

The blood of Samuel Hobson is salty and sweet. John feeds a little then Madelyn and then back to him again; there is something intimate even more than sex about sharing the blood of another with someone. It was a primal bond, a moment intimacy, trust, and affection that he couldn't explain to anyone who wasn't experiencing it.

John likes the sweetness of Samuel's blood more than he had liked the saltiness of Alfred Henry's, but the exquisite taste of either couldn't compare to the feeling he got from watching Madelyn feed.

Face flushed in delight, lips smeared with crimson, eyelids half-closed and twitching in euphoric bliss. She moves like a predator, taking apart her prey in slow bits. There is something beautiful yet monstrous about her in this state. His stomach ties itself in knots of lust and love, affection and desire watching her like this.

He's so wrapped up in her that he doesn't hear the creak of Annie's footsteps outside the door, but Madelyn does.

"Finish him while I put Annie back to bed," Madelyn snaps, with a frustrated growl at being interrupted mid feed.

He watches her take a few seconds to switch from bloodthirsty to maternal protector; it amazed him how easy it was for her to slip into either role.

* * *

"Why do you always feed off men?" John asks, hand resting on Madelyn's hip. She's tired; he isn't. His mind has a thousand different thoughts and questions. In her content state, he feels she will be forthcoming in answering him.

Men resistless than women in all of my research, I've never been able to find out why. However, women transform from human to vampire quicker than men once bit," Madelyn sleepily replies, laying on her side.

"Research?" John questions softly, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers.

  
"You're going to ask me stuff when I'm full and tired," Madelyn murmurs, shifting to turn around, so they are faced to face. "When I first became like this, I wanted to cure myself, so I travelled the world searching for one. Of course, I never found one, but during that time, I studied what I could do. I studied what I was, how each subject I feed off tasted different or those I allowed to live how long it took for them to turn,".

The fact she turned others makes him uncomfortable; jealousy strikes out in his chest like a dark green snake. He wonders if she fed with them, laid in bed with the way she is with him now. It's like Madelyn can sense the way he feels, her hand strokes his cheek, and she smiles at him softly.

"I kept notes. You can read them if you like it'll help you understand what you now are more," Madelyn offers, tongue briefly darting over her bottom lip. "What exactly I learnt from each subject, what I did with those subjects to learn it. I think you'll find it interesting,".


	6. Chapter 6

The wind howls outside, banging on the windows as if were a crying lonely child afraid of the dark wanting to come inside.

John sits with papers scattered all around him, a grimace on lips when he takes a sip from the goblet in his hand. The blood cold and stale, he understands why Madelyn only drinks it fresh, pumping around another's body. It loses so much flavour when out of the body.

Madelyn is somewhere doting on Annie, her interruption last night had been forgiven while he reads through her notes. He wasn't sure whether he'd label the people written in them Madelyn's subjects or victims.

In Ireland, the first woman Madelyn helped to transform was called Maeve. Her transformation took twelve hours, whereas the men before her had taken anywhere from three days to two weeks.

Her treatment of Maeve was cruel, sadistic, and cold. She kept her in a cell without food or water or blood or any real human interaction. Left her in a state of bloodlust until her skin turned patchy bruised purple and she lost her mind.

Madelyn more than once described here as wild and rapid who would tear apart her son then lick his blood up off the floor if given half a chance.

It was with Maeve she discovered feeding on blood wasn't needed for survival. However, it kept alive that spark of humanity, the ability to reason, and sanity. Once she learnt all she could from Maeve, Madelyn let her loose on the world and moved on.

Before Maeve, shortly after her transformation from human to vampire Madelyn had travelled to Transylvania where she stayed with an old friend. She hadn't planned to feed off the Count, but her hunger took over.

Madelyn refused to waste the opportunity to study him. His power to hypnotize and mesmerize was incredible. Lure and keep his victims under his spell was in Madelyn's words "Magical to watch". It was there she learned to perfect that skill herself.

Of course, there were some unforeseen side effects for the Count. A deadly reaction to sunlight, silver and garlic made his skin burn and itch.

Both John and Madelyn could walk in the sun; it made them uncomfortable, and they avoided it, but it wasn't deadly to them. Madelyn could never figure out why the Count reacted the way he did.

Madelyn went all over the world, country after country. The most time she would stay is a year, the least a month, in every single one leaving at least one vampire behind.

Her time in India fascinated him the most; a village once burnt everything they had to rid themselves of the evil, she had unleashed on them. When it failed, they buried the man in chains underground. He wouldn't die, but at least they were safe from him.

It during her time in India she met a Scottish gentleman named Kenneth Deep, he was travelling the world. For some unknown reason, he had developed gills during his transformation. Unlike most of the others, he seemed to adapt to what he was with ease. Joined a freakshow that was travelling the world.

* * *

"Are you finished?" Madelyn asks, from the doorway. Her footsteps get closer, the smell of dirt and cherry clings to her. The fragrance is so strong that he wonders if she's rolled around in a pile of dirt mixed with cherries.

The mental image makes him smile a little.

"Almost," John answers, hand gripping the edge of a piece of paper. "In all your notes there was nothing about you became like this,".

He wants to know, wants her to trust with this one secret.

"It's almost like I don't want you to know about that yet," her hands rest on his shoulders, mouth close to his ear. John tenses only for a split second but long enough for Madelyn to notice. "Is something wrong?".

"You abandoned everyone else you changed like they were nothing to you," John murmurs, leaning into her touch. It's an instinct that he can't and doesn't want to fight. He already regrets the involuntarily tensing of his body from earlier.

"First it bothers you because you thought they meant something and now it's because they didn't, interesting," the comment comes out much more snippety than Madelyn had intended.

"Don't speak about me as I'm one your bloody subjects," he hisses and turns to face her.

"I wasn't, and you're not like them okay. I care about you. I want you at my side now and always," Madelyn soothes, hand trailing her hand down his face.

"At your side, at your feet, and under your thumb more like,"

"Would you have it any other way, my love?"

* * *

  
John is dreaming. It's one of those dreams where he knows that he's asleep but can't wake up despite wishing he could.

He's wandering the castle, but it looks different. Cleaner than he's ever seen it, vibrant and alive. Maids hurry around, busy and nervous. Almost as if they would like to be anywhere else on the planet. A Butler holds a tray, he looks terrified. John doesn't know how, but he knows these people died slowly and painfully.

A woman cries it's a broken haunted cry that echoes around the castle and dragging it into a web of darkness. Something terrible has happened, but no one dares speak about what it is. Fear and shame keep their mouths shut.

Sunlight streams through the window, he walks around aimlessly lost until he reaches the screaming. There is a door, a black door and he knows he shouldn't open it but does anyway.

There is Madelyn like he's never seen her, raw, vulnerable and broken. The scars on her back that his fingers have traced over more than one are new, fresh and open wounds.

She turns her head, studies him in confusion for a moment.

"Time to wake up and get out of my head, my love," Madelyn orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I did a cliche overused trope of a character dreaming/sharing a dream with another through some sort of telepathic link. I regret nothing I tell you


End file.
